John chewed on his bottom lip as he thought about my husband's question. "Well, you should know that Miss Genevieve being pregnant with your dog’s puppies does decrease her earning potential for the next six months or so. I know that sounds cold, but a dog like this is a side business that generates its expenses as well as profits. Even so, with all that has happened, I'm not interested in suing anybody."
I let out a sigh. It was such a relief to know Mr. Warren wasn’t planning on suing for damages. "That’s so good to hear. Butch getting away from us was an accident.”
"I understand that. Let's just let sleeping dogs lie. Pardon the pun."
"You certainly are a kind and understanding person."
"Don’t you mean, kind and understanding unlike my ex-wife?"
I grinned at his candor.
“I'm going to be honest with you about Rhoda. When I first fell in love with her, I thought she was wonderful. Unfortunately, I only got to know the real Rhoda after I married her. She had trouble being faithful. I probably shouldn't admit this to anybody, but her behavior made me crazy with anger. I did some things I wasn’t proud of either. That's why I finally had to leave.”
Gwen came in and took Coco from me. “Hey, sweetie, you want to go out and build a sand castle?" Coco giggled as she warmed up to her grandmother’s voice. Mr. Warren unfolded the jacket off his arm, getting ready to leave. I was still curious about the pictures.
"I was wondering if I could ask you about something."
"Sure."
"When I was getting Miss Genevieve’s dog food, I noticed Rhoda had another husband. How long were the two of you married?"
"Just for a few years. She did tell me she had a first husband but didn't say a lot about him. I got the feeling that he had a lot more invested in the relationship than she did. I guess it was pretty well that way for my marriage, too. Rhoda had a lot of…other interests. In the end, I'm afraid Miss Genevieve won out. That dog was the thing that Rhoda treasured most in life."
John Warren was a sad guy, I thought. He certainly deserved more than our disagreeable neighbor.
John had just stood up to shake hands with Leo when we heard another car crunching the gravel outside Gwen’s house. My mother-in-law looked out the front window as she applied sunscreen to Coco.
"Oh my, we are having a lot of company today."
A woman in a chocolate brown jacket and a tweed pencil skirt—a vivid contrast to beachwear—stepped out of a flawless white mini SUV. The woman adjusted the intricately carved wooden handle of the handbag on her wrist. She looked up at the house as if judging it worthy and then began climbing the steps of the front porch.
"Mom, do you have an Avon lady?" Leo asked.
Gwen laughed. "Yes I do, but she usually wears shorts.”
The woman knocked on the door in pointed beats, reminding me of a woodpecker. I reached over and opened the door. "Can I help you?"
"Yes. Is this the household that is caring for Miss Genevieve, the property of the late Rhoda Warren?"
"Yes," I answered. How many friends could one standard poodle have? I had to assume she was a handler or someone involved in the business of showing dogs. In her flat heels and functional business suit, she looked like she was dressed to run around the Westminster Kennel Club’s annual dog show.
"Wonderful. I am the owner of Miss Genevieve's mother. I am also the owner of the Galveston Elite Training Academy just off of Broadway Boulevard. We have a long history of producing dog show champions. I raised Miss Genevieve from birth until Rhoda Warren tricked me out of her. I'm here to take custody of what is rightfully mine."
John Warren stepped forward. "How is it that you think you deserve custody of my ex-wife's dog?"
"The operative word here, sir, is ex-wife. You will find I took your ex-wife to court over custody of Miss Genevieve. You can look it up. My name is Joy Turner. It will be on the official record. Miss Genevieve was the best dog of that litter and the pup I laid claim to for myself. When your ex-wife came to pick up her puppy, the handler mistakenly gave her the wrong dog. Rightfully, and lawfully, Miss Genevieve should be my property."
It seemed pretty silly that a bunch of adults were arguing over a dog, but I was quickly learning when that dog is a show dog with potential for earning money and prestige, it’s an entirely different situation. Miss Genevieve was not just a dog, but property.
"Excuse me,” I said, “but I think this is a matter that will have to be taken up with the police and maybe the court again. The police have trusted the custody of the dog to us, and that is the way it's going to stay. We do not have the authority to give Miss Genevieve to you."
Joy Turner looked at me, unblinking. "Fine, but let me warn you, I don't want to hear about you removing the dog from these premises for any reason. Miss Genevieve is to stay here until I come back with the court order to reclaim what is rightfully mine. I'd hoped you would cooperate and do the right thing, but I can see that you are sadly confused about the situation. It often happens with the unschooled."
After the dog breeder had left, I turned to John Warren. "Is the dog show world really this ruthless?"
"You have no idea."
Chapter 6
That evening, after the boys finished off gigantic plates of sloppy joes, I called my aunt Maggie to see if she and Danny were planning to join us at the beach anytime soon. My cousin Danny was a grown man, but many years younger developmentally. His Down syndrome always made me think of him as a younger brother. Danny loved coming to the beach, but taking him away from his regular environment could be taxing on Maggie. I hadn't seen them in a couple of weeks and was starting to miss both of them. If she decided not to, I would have to understand. After telling her the story of our canine Romeo, the sad death of Rhoda Warren, and several impending court cases, she might be reluctant.
Aunt Maggie chuckled into the phone on the other end. "Boy, that Butch sure is a rascal isn’t he?"
"I just think it was a case of opportunity knocking. We should have had him fixed when Dr. Springer told us to. As soon as we get back to Pecan Bayou, I’m making an appointment for him."
"Poor guy." There was a rustling on the other end of the phone conversation. "Danny wants to talk to you. Hold on."
"Betsy?” he said into the phone as if speaking down a long tube. “Are you there Betsy?"
"Yes, Danny. How are you?"
"When are you coming home, Betsy? I miss you."
"Not for a while yet. Do you feel like coming to see me?" There was a pause on the other end of the line as Danny processed my request.
"Where are you, Betsy?"
"I'm at the beach at Grandma Gwen's house."
"Is that in Pecan Bayou?"
"No. We are at the ocean." Again there was a pause on the other end.
"I will give you back to Mama. Love you." I waited for my aunt to return, but I was surprised when my father came on the line instead.
"Hey, darlin'. It's me. I was over havin’ some of your aunt's home cookin’. How's it going down there?"
I debated telling him about my recent interview with the Galveston police.
"Betsy, are you there?"
"Yes. I'm here. Do you remember me telling you about Butch getting into trouble with that neighbor’s poodle?"
"Oh yes. Casanova Butch. Whatever happened with that?"
"The good news is the pending lawsuit has been dropped."
"And the bad news?"
"The poodle's owner is dead. The Galveston Police have questioned us."
"You have to be kidding me. It's bad enough I kept finding you in the middle of my murder investigations in Pecan Bayou, but now you're branching out to Galveston?"
"I don't think the police have a clue as to who might have murdered this woman. Is there any way you can find information about her first husband for me? She was married before, but I don’t know what his name was or where he is now."
"You want me to run a check on this woman's first husband?” My father wa
s getting a little exasperated with me, but all he had to do was punch a couple of buttons at his computer and bam!—he could come up with more information on a person than the NSA.
He sighed on the other end. Five minutes of talking to me and he was already tired. "Okay, what's his name? You may as well give me the name of the other guy, too. Her current husband, if there is one."
"There is,” and I told him the names I knew. “Thanks. Love you, Daddy. Are you coming to the beach soon?"
"Probably not. So many people here are on vacation. Besides, thanks to you, it looks like I have a new case."
~*~
Two hours later my father called back. “Rhoda Warren’s first husband, Julian Brewer, has an address in Pasadena, Texas. I’m still working on the second husband.” Pasadena was one Houston’s many suburbs, only an hour from Galveston. After I had hung up with my father, I debated calling Julian Brewer, and finally rationalized it by deciding he might want to know his ex-wife had passed away. It was a bit of a stretch, but I couldn't help myself and dialed his number.
After a few niceties and explaining that I was visiting family next door to Rhoda’s house, I launched into my true mission. After hearing the news, Julian Brewer was silent then his voice broke slightly as he spoke. "How did she die?"
"She was strangled. I'm so sorry. No one has told you?"
"No. Not at all. We don't exactly run in the same circles anymore. I appreciate your call. Who could have done such a thing?" A sob slipped out. He was not handling this news well.
"Again, I'm so sorry."
"How did you even know to call me? I’m touched I was remembered, but this whole phone call seems kind of strange to me."
Should I tell him I was snooping around his ex-wife’s house and happened to see him in a picture? Why not? The truth is always the best way to get where you want to go. "I saw your picture in your ex-wife’s house. You were standing with her and Miss Genevieve. I noticed your name was different and surmised that you had been Rhoda’s first husband."
"Where is Miss Genevieve?"
"She’s staying with us until Rhoda’s second husband picks her up. He's having to find a place where he can have a dog."
"I'm not sure he has a right to take custody of that dog. After all, I was with Rhoda when Miss Genevieve was a puppy and being trained."
The last thing I wanted to do was get between two men and a prize-winning poodle. "Miss Genevieve seems to be generating a lot of custody claims right now."
"Of course. She’s a winner. Winners mean money. So, you’re living in the house next to my wife's house. My ex-wife's house?"
"Yes."
"If you wouldn’t mind, if you have a key, I’d like to come and pick up the pictures my wife had of us."
"Sure. The police left a key with me."
"Great. I'll be there tomorrow."
That certainly happened fast. For a guy who was an ex-husband, he was sure anxious to keep mementos of a failed marriage.
Chapter 7
"But Betsy, it hurts." I rubbed the slimy aloe vera gel into Tyler’s lobster-red shoulders. Leo’s son never took to calling me Mom, even though I had asked him too.
"I'm sure it does, but you should have known better than to go without sunscreen yesterday."
"I forgot, okay?" His was tone surly. The calling card of a teenage boy.
"Put on a shirt before you go outside, or it's just going to burn more."
"Okay." He lumbered off to the bedroom he was sharing with his brother. Leo's mother came in from watering the plants on her back deck. A few drops of water shone on her white Capri pants. "Is he going to live?"
"Oh yes, but not without making the rest of us suffer."
"He’s at that age." Gwen’s students were the same age as Tyler. She spent nine grueling months a year putting up with mood swings and resentment of anything resembling authority. Gwen took it all in stride, just one of the many things that made her an excellent teacher. Wheels crunched through gravel and seashells in Gwen’s driveway. As I glanced out the window, a man I recognized immediately from the pictures in Rhoda’s living room stepped out of his car. He had to be her first husband.
"Mr. Brewer?" I said as I came to the front porch to greet him. He looked much like his picture except for an extra ten pounds and a little less hair. His shirt hung out at the waistline of inexpensive brown gabardine slacks. Compared to the second husband, this man didn't seem to be Rhoda's type at all.
"Are you Betsy?"
"Yes, come on in. I'll get the key to Rhoda's house." Mr. Brewer followed me, wiping his brow. There was a smell of sweat about him.
"I really want to thank you for doing this. If it hadn’t been for you, I don't know if John would have let me into the house at all. I’m going to need you to stay with me so you can tell him that I didn't rob the house. Although Rhoda and I did buy a lot of that stuff together.” He stopped for a moment but then continued, “Not that I care. No. I just want pictures of the two of us together."
"You looked happy in those pictures."
Julian Brewer’s smile was wistful. "Happier days." There was regret in his voice, and it was pretty easy for me to figure out who had initiated the divorce. Miss Genevieve came around the corner, and as soon as Julian saw her, he crouched down to pet her, the crepe soles of his shoes squeaking.
"Miss Genevieve. How are you, girl?" He ruffled her curly white fur and gave her a hug. He then looked up at me. "I used to spend a lot of my time training this dog. Rhoda needed Miss Genevieve to be perfect. Of course, first you have to have the bloodline, but everything else has to be trained into a dog. I have to give Rhoda credit. She did it."
A few minutes later, as we opened Rhoda Warren’s door, Julian Brewer sucked in a breath. "Was she murdered in here?"
It occurred to me, a little late, I was bringing a loved one to a murder scene. I slowed my step as my gaze met Julian's. He seemed to be looking for the proverbial chalk outline on the floor. "I believe they found her on the deck."
Julian peeked onto the back deck from the den as if worried he would disturb her corpse. "So sad.” He whispered. “She was a beautiful woman. The world has suffered a loss now."
She wasn’t exactly Mother Teresa, but still I had to admire the guy. It took quite a gentleman to divorce a woman and still have so much respect for her. Maybe there was a side of the disagreeable poodle owner I hadn't seen.
"How long were you married?"
"Seven years. I wanted children, and when that didn’t happen after five years, we bought Miss Genevieve. At times, she seemed like our child. We were all wrapped up in the dog shows and the competitions. That world seemed to make Rhoda come alive. What I didn't know was that her brand new world didn't include me. She filed for divorce eight months after Miss Genevieve won Nationals. Rhoda broke my heart that day."
“You still love her, don't you?"
Julian stammered, and he gazed at his shoes. "Is it that obvious? I guess I was still in love with her. A deep love doesn’t go away overnight. Sometimes it never goes away at all. This might surprise you, but even though we were divorced, we still talked on the phone from time to time. I was hoping that maybe we might get together again. I know she dated other men, but she always came back to me. Not in the sense of traditional marriage, but as a friend. I was her best friend."
Not only had she dated other men, but she also married another man. In some ways his theory of being her best friend sounded accurate, but if she was so happy with what they had, why had she been such a serial dater? Rhoda had been married to her second husband for only two years. I couldn’t tell if Julian Brewer’s description of their relationship was the truth or just wishful thinking.
"Not to be unkind, but you did realize she was seeing someone else, right? Besides her second husband? They told us she was out with him on the day she died."
Julian nodded. "Rhoda was easily bored. I'm sure it was nothing serious."
If she was out until the wee hours of the morning,
it seemed serious to me. Still, though, Julian was an optimist. I decided to leave him to his perceptions of Rhoda. It would only hurt him more to face the truth. "I think most of what you're looking for is here in the den."
Julian reached out and touched the tarnished frame that caught my eye. Was he being sentimental or did the tarnish bug him as much as it did me?
~*~
After Julian packed a box with his choice of pictures and drove away, I decided to call the Galveston Police. I wasn’t sure if they knew there were two husbands to account for, not one.
Detective Morton answered on the first ring. "Yes, we knew about the first husband, but thank you for taking the time to call us. Half of our cases are solved by observant citizens."
"Do you have any lead suspects?" That was the kind of thing my father would say. I hoped using the right terminology would make Detective Morton feel free to take me into his confidence.
"Not really. We interviewed the man she was out with the night before she died, but he has a solid alibi for the time when she was murdered. He worked in a kennel and had to feed the dogs. All on surveillance cameras.”
"When I spoke to Julian, he didn't seem to think Rhoda was serious about the man."
"Maybe not, but they had a relationship. Are you still holding onto the poodle?"
"Yes. We promised John Warren we’d keep Miss Genevieve until he could move to place where he could keep her.”
"That's very kind of you. The shelter is certainly no place for a dog like that."
"Especially seeing as she's in the family way and it's our dog's fault."
"So true." Morton laughed. "I interviewed John Warren, but I would be curious to know your impression of the man."
"He seemed nice enough." I hesitated for a moment.
"But?"
"It's probably nothing."
"Like I said, information from the community solves half of our cases."
"I'm only telling you this because I am a police officer's daughter, and I know that my dad would want to know about this.”
Happy Homicides 4: Fall Into Crime: Includes Happy Homicides 3: Summertime Crimes Page 74